


She Asks For No Thanks But To See The Moon Shine Her Love Back Every Night

by Logoleptiq



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Logoleptiq/pseuds/Logoleptiq
Summary: Rose consistently has trouble getting to class in the morning seeing as Kanaya continues to be relentlessly adorable and keeps her in bed. Not that she's complaining.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short story I wrote for my creative writing class, which my gay ass had to make about homestuck

You blindly crawl along the side of your bed, half on the floor and half entangled in sheets, towards the sound of your alarm. You had skillfully placed your phone on the vanity on the other side of the room in order to force yourself to get out of bed. About a month ago, you would have just snoozed it enough times to make you almost (but safely not) late for class. 

But a month ago you weren’t regularly sleeping next to the darling girl you loved, who was quietly whistling in her sleep to your left, her mouth slightly parted and her arms curled around a stuffed moth. On this morning, you set only one alarm, as to avoid waking her. And, on this morning, your alarm has been set to exactly five minutes before your first class, allowing you to go about your normal Monday morning routine only a little more drowsy than usual. You grab ahold of your phone and, more clumsily than quickly, find the correct button for its’ silence. Checking behind you, you make sure she is still undisturbed. She is at peace. You begin to make your side of the bed.

An unusual part of your morning process, you tidy the sheets and make them look a little less like you had tried to swim in them. You are too slow, and her lazy yet firm grasp meets your wrist, pulling you down with tired commitment.

“I have to get to class, Kanaya” you whine softly, escaping her grip and traveling to the chest of drawers. The room is too cold on your bare skin, and the sooner you can get your clothes on, the better.

She sits up, the five quilts you had piled up on our queen cocooned around her. “Rose,” she groans, just barely able to gather up her thoughts with the early orange light of dawn grazing her face through the window, as though to push her back down into her chrysalis. “If you don’t come back here and warm me up, I’m just going to have to come with you to whatever weird psych class you have to be in at this godforsaken hour.” Even in the haze of six am, her speech still contains some layer of elegance. It’s especially impressive considering how little rest she had likely gotten last night, only having settled in at 1 this morning, and spending about another hour or so keeping you awake with her, though you are certainly not complaining. 

“Go back to sleep, you’ve only been out of class for a few hours. You’ve got to be exhausted.” 

“Deeply, undeniably exhausted, yes,” she agreed, relaxing and letting the pod of covers she’d built for herself pour off of her shoulders. You are still getting used to seeing her this way; relaxed, with such little poise. With you, she became fluid, formless but still a scene. You pool over with her, out of your molds and into shapes that suited you best together. As she lays back down, uncovered, the light through the window trails with her, angled to shadow her shape on the comforter. She looks so warm in what could easily be a 50-degree apartment bedroom, her form crisp against the silhouetted covers, her roles and waves bleeding from red, orange, yellow. Her reflection of the sun was more beautiful than any sunrise you could ever imagine. You’d rather see it wrapped around her.

“At least let me put on some socks, and then I’ll come back to bed,” you lie as you reach for the drawer’s knob. Hopefully she'll fall back asleep if you promise her that at least. 

“You can’t put socks on, stupid,” she grunted.

“Uh…” You continued to put your sock on your right foot. “Why not, exactly?” You figure you’d humor her if she is going to be so insistent.

She rolls over to face you, only one eye open, the other half of her face smushed into her pillow. “Didn’t you hear? Socks are illegal now.”

“Really?” You say in false amazement.

She nods, with a serious look on her face, pushing her cheeks further into her memory foam pillow with all of the strength of a feeble night school botany major.

You laugh a little, closing the drawer obediently. You liked her like this, careless and covered in soft sun. She tends to be a pretty commanding person, but you wouldn’t listen if you didn’t want to. If she didn’t even want you to wear socks, you wouldn’t. You hold your hand out, inviting her to pull you back into her sand smoothed grasp. The quilts are all on her side, but you don’t bother pulling them back over to you, and instead roll over closer to the side they are on. No matter what she demands of you, though, she never asks too much of you. Even so, you know you’d follow her anywhere. She knows so much about the interworkings of the earth, and you want to know every piece of scripture her mouth can articulate. You’d let her lick you dry, if she needed to. You’d let her live inside of you.

She pulls you close to her, where you can feel the different strokes of your heartbeats, the depth of your breaths. You've been in bed with her often enough to know that when it comes to her, as close as possible is never close enough. Despite this, you still feel warmer in her arms than you can say you’ve felt in so long.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this poem I wrote a little before this that nobody asked for but I'm including anyway:  
> “The Sky And I Are In Love, You Know”  
> On this earth we live under a canopy of  
> nitrogen  
> and water and  
> dust  
> angled in such a way to let only wavelengths of  
> gold and  
> umber  
> and a burning childish joy  
> stemming from  
> the beauty of the scattered colors in the  
> atmospheric penumbra of the  
> suns lost light
> 
> In the hours of a lunar eclipse  
> we are permitted to see  
> the love between two celestial entities  
> all the world’s sunsets lie  
> on the surface of the moon  
> and she blushes at the sun’s gifts  
> of rosy pigments filtered through  
> earth’s atmosphere.  
> She asks for no thanks  
> but to see the moon  
> shine her love back every night  
> a little brighter
> 
> Our atmosphere lets through just  
> what allows us to live  
> the scattered pigments through  
> violets and blues as the solar hues drop from  
> blue  
> green  
> yellow  
> orange  
> this is why we have sunsets


End file.
